Windows
by S.Walden
Summary: Edward has been having nightmares. Alphonse reflects on them and wonders if his brother is shutting him out. Fluff. One-shot.


Windows

Al listened as the wind rattled the loose window. It reminded him of each time he took a step or made a whisper, a haunting sound that reminded him constantly that he lacked his physical body. He couldn't even sigh- he didn't feel human enough to sigh. He could only stare, wide awake, at the small, dark room of the inn they were sleeping at and listen to the rattling window.

When his brother did make a noise, he tried to ignore it, but sometimes the nightmares were bad, like tonight, like last night, and the night before. Edward had been particularly tired, even slipping up during a rather simple transmutation earlier.

They hadn't been journeying long. Alphonse had hoped his brother would work out whatever was plaguing him, but the whimpering said otherwise. Al was distracted a moment, only able to daydream about what it was like to have an actual dream. He wanted to sympathize, but he had no nightmares that he could remember, even that night they committed the ultimate alchemiac taboo. He wanted so badly to remember so his brother didn't have to face these things alone.

Even more awkward, when Ed did wake from his sleep, he would laugh, roll over, and nap again, not bothering to say a word, knowing his little brother was awake, also. _That's brother, always stubborn. _Al thought.

This night was different though. When Edward awoke from his own screams, he was as silent as Alphonse, staring at the wall in front of him for a long time. The moonlight coming in through the window reflected off of Ed's automail and when he did twitch, the light jumped.

"Brother-"

"Yeah?" Edward asked quickly.

"You haven't been sleeping well," Al noted for him. Maybe hearing it would keep him from being stubborn.

"I know."

"What are you dreaming about?"

"Alphonse, you don't need that image in your head," Edward replied.

Al reached down, grabbing the red coat from where Ed had tossed it aside earlier and set it over his brother's shoulders. "Maybe talking will help."

"You don't remember what Mom- no, what that thing looked like?"

"No," he replied.

"It calls out to me to help it, but I can't move. I'm too scared, too fucking useless to do anything. I just want to tell Mom I'm sorry for what we've done... Not leaving the dead, dead. It's a horrible thing, Al. I wonder if us getting our bodies back will end just as horribly. And the killer is, that thing sounds like Mom." His voice was cracking now. "What have we done... is what we're doing now only making things worse? Maybe we should just return to Resembool and forget this. Everyone says the philosopher's stone leads to insanity. Maybe we should listen this time."

"Brother," Al pressed, "Don't say things like that. Mom would forgive us. She would understand us. And what kind of life would we lead in these bodies? I don't even know how long I'll last in here. It's like my body is pulling at my soul. I can barely hold on, Ed. We have to hurry and find some way to put ourselves back, even if it isn't through the philosopher's stone."

Edward remained silent for a long time. The window had stopped rattling, the wind having died down. "I'm too scared to sleep." Still, silence. Then a chuckle, "Oh man, I sound like you when we were back home..."

"What do you mean?"

"Al," Ed said, sitting cross-legged, smiling up at his brother. Any other person would be scared to look up into those glowing eyes surrounded by cold steel in a dark room. Not Edward. He only saw his brother and nothing else. "Do you remember that time you had a nightmare and... well, _he_ made you sleep in your own bed because you were getting too old to crowd Mom's?"

"Maybe..."

"You were still scared, so I got in bed next to you and held you until you fell asleep."

"Yeah, I remember. I remember feeling scared." Al noted his brother's distant gaze, "What are you asking?"

"I know a suit of armor isn't that comfortable," Ed said as he climbed out of bed, taking his jacket with him. "But it's better than being alone." He curled up in Al's lap like many a stray cat, cheek nudged into the crook of Al's arm.

Everything was silent for a bit. Alphonse gently lowered his hand to his brother's side, metal against metal, but comforting nonetheless, for it was what bound them together, more than any nightmare could keep them apart.


End file.
